Thursday, April 5, 2012


Above Fanny Hooe

Two man dome, ground tarp, old zipper-shot
flannel bags, battered perk pot, your worn camping
sweater and all the rest of it,
chairs, books, bug dope

We’ll get an early start,
Rose curled atop the clutter,
hunkered down with other loaded memories; so
much for traveling light.  Naubinway’s visible from

        the top of the span but we’ll tune in AM 530
        for bridge conditions, muted crackling menace ramps

up the
vertiginous thrill of
crossing, counting harnessed
bridge painters eating lunch, backs to the strait,

helmets   ranked     steel        turtles     on    a      log

                Late lunch at the Brownstone Inn,
whitefish, wine, coffee, pie, cool lake air
aperitif, Greg Brown all the way to Baraga,
        Mose Allison to smooth the final leg

Light enough at ten to stake tent rings
on the bluff above Fanny Hooe, forage

kindling, build the fire that will
ward off the August chill and cast

a copper glow around us, tiny ampule
of light, beacon for our gathering ghosts. 


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